


The Blood of Elvhenan

by evelynwaaaaah



Series: Elvhenan Arises [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fade Sex, Fade Tongue, Feelings, Minor Cullen Rutherford/Female Lavellan, Post-Game, Sad Cullen, Spoilers, Sub Fen'Harel, The Fade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3739648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelynwaaaaah/pseuds/evelynwaaaaah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian's damnable insistence on binge-drinking means that Hal'lasean Lavellan has to tell Fen'Harel her news sooner than she'd hoped.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was Dorian's fault she was in this position. Well, no. Technically it was Fen'Harel's fault. And hers as well, if she was being honest. But the rest of it was definitely all Dorian's fault.

No matter what she said, how many perfectly valid excuses she made, no matter how she insisted that she was much too busy to waste valuable daylight getting drunk in the tavern, even if it did mean wiping the floor with most of her favorite people at Wicked Grace, he was determined. He and Bull cornered her in the rotunda and probably would have tackled her if she hadn't hurriedly capitulated at the last minute in fear for the delicate life that now called her its home. But even surrender didn't save her from the humiliating -- and hilarious -- act of being carried like a dead pig through the main hall, out into the courtyard, and several times around it for fun on her way to the booze. And, oh, how she wished she could have had some after all that. They attracted quite an audience and acquired a tail of Inquisition soldiers, who started loudly singing a song she'd never heard before but that she was almost positive was about her relationship with Solas. They kept repeating a chorus about how he loved Elvhenan more than Hal'lasean, but just when it seemed to be over, they started a verse that was essentially an abridged list of all the places in Skyhold they'd been caught or heard coupling in the last month. Dorian and Bull joined in and if she had had access to her arms (Dorian was holding his side of her up by her wrists), she would have covered her face in embarrassment. As it was, she turned so red that she could have been used as a signal fire and laughed helplessly while loudly cursing the Qun, Bull, the Chargers, Dorian, Tevinter, Solas, and the bard, and threatening each soldier who had fought for her by first name with the dungeons, the stocks, drills, whatever she happened to come up with in the moment.

And poor Cullen, who waited for them outside the Herald's Rest, blushed and kept a brave face for his soldiers so they wouldn't see how crushed he was by the lyrics to their revelry. She'd shouted at him, tried to cut over the sound of their song, desperate to end his hurt. "Commander! You seem to have been giving your forces too much free time!" The look he gave her was endlessly fond and grateful because it meant he got to step menacingly toward his soldiers and they all scattered mid-list, laughing and slapping each other on the back. They had long since run out of song and had resorted to making up new, absurd locations that one would call out and the rest repeated. They had never made love in a tree or in the Winter Palace (at least not in the physical world) and they had most definitely not yet figured out a way to ravage each other on Corypheus' corpse. He didn't even have one as far as she knew. Besides, it didn't seem particularly sexy.

"Haven't you embarrassed her enough for one day?" Cullen asked mirthfully when it looked as though Dorian and the Bull intended to carry her right into the tavern as well. 

"What's 'enough'?" Bull wondered cheerfully.

"She tried to escape!" cried Dorian. "She's a flight risk!"

Hal had let out a haggard sigh. "I'm here now, I may as well stay! You can put me down, I won't try to escape until one of you tells me I can." She was careful to let the 'you' be vague so that she could give faithful, wonderful Cullen a pleading look in a bit and extract her dismissal from him. When Dorian still looked dubious -- which was quite funny upside-down -- she added a grudging, "On my honor as Inquisitor."

"You heard the woman, Bull," sighed Dorian, "put her down." And suddenly she knew they were going to drop her in a heap.

"Gently!" she yelped, and then, "Cullen!" Because she knew of course that he would be there with his arms beneath her faster than she even thought to call on him and so he was, catching her when the other men let go and holding her against his chest until she put her feet down. And no one had missed it. Not Dorian or Bull, who gave her disapproving looks that said she should have known better, not her flaming cheeks and her guilt, and not Cullen, who was suddenly falling all over himself trying to seem nonchalant. As though he would have held anyone he happened to catch so intimately. As though it weren't callous and cruel of Hal to call on him as she had.

She cursed herself now, silently, and tried to resist the urge to touch Cullen's arm so she could apologize. It wasn't something she meant to do. They both understood the situation, had spoken about it on numerous occasions. She'd even offered to help him find someone else.

 _Fenedhis,_ she groaned inwardly in realization,  _when he finds out..._

She would have to tell him next after Fen'Harel. Somewhere private, so that even though he would try to pretend to be pleased for her sake, he at least wouldn't have to pretend for anyone else. Her poor, sweet, honorable Commander. Maybe she could get him drunk first.

Which of course brought her back to the problem at hand. She could try to run. She was faster than all three of them and far more agile. She could slide into the Fade and leave them all behind...or she could deal with this like a grown woman and try to water down her drinks. Whatever it was, it had to be better than standing in the middle of Dorian, Bull, and Cullen, all of whom were feeling strong feelings about how she'd just treated a man they all knew was hopelessly in love with her. It was really too bad wolves were so territorial and the Commander so old fashioned about these things. Then nobody would need to get hurt. And if there _happened_ to be a threesome, well, that's life!

"Ladies first," Dorian prompted with a mocking flourish. 

"Great," sniped Hal as she strode past him with her chin high, "let me know if you see one."

Her plan was to swing to the bar and grab a drink of her choice -- a watered down glass of wine -- before finding whatever table they'd already established, which was bound to the corner one they always chose because it afforded them privacy while also allowing them to spy on everyone else, but as soon as she turned toward the counter, Bull grabbed her by the shoulders and twisted her toward the table -- "Oh, no you don't, Boss!" -- where Varric and Krem were waiting with towering mugs of what she could already tell was that throat-burning concoction Bull liked to foist on her when she least expected it. There was one for each of them, which meant there was already one for her. This was not going to be pretty.

"Oh, I'm actually not feeling very well," she attempted lamely, looking apologetically at her gathered gaggle of men as they took their seats. Except for Cullen, who helped her into hers. Her heart broke for him. "I'll play, but I can't drink." She peered into her glass and was immediately blown back by the intensity of the alcohol in it. Her eyes watered with the memory of her last hangover from the stuff. 

"Oh, will you quit being so dramatic!" Dorian scoffed.

Krem laughed. "Look who's talking!"

While Dorian was busy looking shocked and insulted, Varric smirked at her from across the table. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Hey, don't sweat it, Hal. You've made an admirable effort, really, but there's no shame in it if you just can't keep up with the boys!" Dorian and Bull made a unified "oooooh!" sound, but at least Cullen and Krem had the good sense to keep their mouths shut. Hal, for her part, found her mouth hanging open. In an outrage that was only partly serious. 

" _Excuse_ me, durgen'len!" she gasped, rising a little in her seat in challenge.

Varric laughed and held up his hands. "There's no need to pull out your Elvish. If you can't hack it, you can't hack it. And that's okay! We'll still let you play with us."

She knew exactly what he was doing. He knew she knew exactly what he was doing. And on any other day, she would have made a rude gesture with her hands and tipped back the cup in front of her until it had all disappeared down her gullet. It was a game they played often, these men of hers, because only rarely did other women join the table, and it made them pleased and proud when she accepted any dare they offered her or bested them at anything but pure upper body strength. There had been one particularly rowdy evening in which they'd all gotten very drunk and had an arm-wrestling contest. She had lost to every man at the table (who all lost to the Bull) but kept goading them into rematches and trying to cheat when they clearly weren't going her way. And so now they expected her to do something showy, to down her drink and maybe Cullen's as well and slam the empty mugs on the table in triumph. She briefly considered straddling Varric's lap and asking him to repeat what he said while she played with his chest hair, but she figured her blushing would give her away. And she thought about 'accidentally' knocking over her drink and then bending down to get it in the most suggestive way possible, but it seemed a cheap shot and would probably just torture Cullen. So instead she raised her brows and leveled a smarmy smirk at Varric. "Oh, Varric," she cooed like an Orlesian noblewoman, fluttering vapidly, "if only a strong,  _hairy_ stud would show me how it's done! Maybe  _then_ I could try to keep up!"

The dwarf rolled his eyes but picked up his cup, and as he brought it to his lips suddenly seemed to realize what he'd just agreed to do. He looked to the other men at the table for support. "Fellas? Care to join me?"

Krem snorted. "You made your bed, now you lie in it!"

"You probably should have kept your mouth shut," Cullen agreed, repressing his grin without much success. He cast a studying glance Hal's way and then lifted his cup as well. "I may live to regret this, but I'll join you, Varric, even if these cowards won't."

"Oh ho!" cried Dorian, slapping a hand on the table. "This way goes the game, does it!" He grabbed his drink and held it high and then Bull and Krem would doing the same because who were they to question the will of the table when it came to being irresponsible with alcohol? "To Hal," he declared. "Whose massive testicles are an inspiration to us all!" Krem and Hal shared a roll of their eyes.  
  
"To Hal!" the table echoed with raucous laughter, and then they were chugging their liquid fire and squirming with their effort to keep it down. Everyone except the subject of their toast, who grudgingly picked up her cup and tilted it to her lips, but only drank the slightest sip. Even that much made her nauseated. She kept the cup there, though, until they all slammed down their empties, and only then did she carefully set hers down as far away as she could from prying, judgmental eyes. In fact, she moved it a little closer to the edge of the table in the hopes it might get knocked over, and a little closer to Cullen, who she knew wouldn't snitch on her.

"We see what you're doing over there!" Dorian said loudly, pointing a finger accusingly at Hal's cup. When she tried to look confused and innocent, he shook his head. "Pretending to drink, moving your cup by Cullen because you  _know_ he won't tell everyone if he realizes you're being sneaky! I know you, Hal'lasean! I know your tricks!"

She flushed pink and grabbed up her cup again -- "Keep your pants on, Pavus, I'm drinking, I'm drinking!" -- sloshing some before she even made it to her lips, where she took another mouthful and almost threw it up right there at the table. Hal lurched and clapped a hand over her mouth and shook her head urgently. No. She was definitely not going to be able to bluff her way through this. Cullen's calloused hand flitted uncertainly against her back while he decided whether or not he could touch her and then the weight of his palm was between her shoulders, rubbing gently and encouraging her to swallow and breath. Her eyes watered as she shot him a grateful look.

"Aw, Hal," said Varric repentantly, "I didn't realize you were  _actually_ not feeling well. Of course you don't have to drink. We all know you'd keep your feet longer than anyone but Bull if you were up to it."

Dorian wasn't convinced, though. He narrowed his eyes at her, weighing her actions, her symptoms, the things she'd said to him so far that day. She could practically track his thoughts, see the moment he remembered how she'd given chase around the rotunda and laughed as they carried her through the fortress. Those weren't the actions of someone with an upset stomach. She sent him her fiercest warning glare, and though he drew back a little and frowned suspiciously, he at least got the hint. 

Unfortunately, Iron Bull didn't. "Well, if you're not gonna drink it, Boss..." He reached over and grabbed her cup, and, just as he lifted it to drink, paused and tossed her a teasing look. "You're not knocked up, are ya?" She couldn't help it. Couldn't stop it in time. She flinched. That was all the confirmation they needed.  
  
Everything happened in slow motion. Dorian's eyes went wide with recognition and he clapped both his hands over his gaping mouth. Varric choked out a, "Andraste's ample bosom!  _Really?!_ " Bull was still trying to figure out what was going on. But Hal had eyes only for Cullen. Good, loyal, compassionate Cullen. Her eyes filled with tears for what was surely the eight hundredth time that day and she reached out to catch his arm, but he pulled away and got to his feet so quickly he knocked the chair over.  
  
"I...I, uh, I just realized I...work..." he stammered, all of his skin turning a vivid, angry red. He was already out the door before Hal even managed to collect herself enough from his recoil to figure out just what was happening.

"Cullen!" she cried unhappily. She pushed back her chair and got to her feet to go after him, but turned around at the last second to point a hurt, furious finger at Dorian. " _Dorian_! This is all your fault!"

As she sprinted after their retreating Commander, she heard the Tevinter mage call after her, "I think I'd remember if I'd been involved!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Cullen!" Hal called, running to catch up as he made a brusque but carefully casual beeline for the nearest stairs to the battlements. He was going to retreat to his office and bury himself in work and then try to pretend to her that nothing had happened, that nothing was wrong, that he was so pleased for her and her Elvhen lover. But that just wasn't going to cut it. Not if Hal had anything to say about it. "Cullen!" she tried again. She knew he could hear her, but he wouldn't slow or turn and his legs were so much longer than her own. Blighted enormous humans! 

And then she cheated. She always played fair and honest with the strapping leader of her soldiers because to do otherwise when he was so fair and honest himself made her feel like a terrible person. So when they played chess or in their conversations about life or their feelings for each other, she never cheated or shied away from what was hard or painful or embarrassing. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

" _Commander!_ " she snapped, loudly enough for several other people in the courtyard to turn and observe the Inquisitor's business with one of her closest advisors. He was already on the stairs, halfway up the first flight, but he finally stopped. He had no ability to keep his shoulders anything but square or his back anything but straight, but his head did droop slightly in resignation and Hal's heart thumped in empathetic pain. 

 _In another world_...

Solas had said it once to her -- when he had been Solas -- and it had been unbearable, frustrating and hurtful and infuriating. She never wanted to cause another that kind of anguish, but there was strong, handsome Cullen with his love for her always visible in his human eyes, always there and never daring to ask, never expecting or entitled or even patient because he was not waiting for her or for an opportunity. He simply was there for her. Always. He was the sun, golden and warm and steady, but Fen'Harel was the darkness with its infinite changes and wondrous secrets, enveloping her and teaching her to see a different world. And she was the moon, reflecting one's light but only ever able to rise in the embrace of the other. How could she help but to love them both?

She caught up with Cullen and stood just behind his right shoulder, neither touching him nor looking at his face. She would leave him those things for now, for his dignity. "Please," she murmured miserably, "please, Cullen, can we go somewhere and talk?" He gave the barest of nods and led the way silently to his office, with her trailing behind him like a lost puppy. They didn't speak or look at each other at all until both doors were closed and locked. Only then did he sink into the chair behind his desk and drop his head into his hands.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled, and without thought she sat at the edge of his desk facing him, her feet set just at the corner of his chair. Despite herself, despite her guilt, she reached out to lovingly run her fingers through his curls. She would have done the same for Dorian or Varric, but of course it was different with Cullen. Everything was different with Cullen. He scrubbed at his face with his hands and finally looked up at her with a hapless, self-deprecating, lopsided smile. "I'm happy for you, I truly am. I--" His eyes narrowed in sudden thought. "Are  _you_ happy about it?"

Her heart flopped lamely in her chest. "You're such a good man, Cullen Rutherford," she sighed. "But you don't need to take care of me right now. You have every reason to be upset and  _I_ am the one who should be apologizing, not you. I have done nothing but unkindness to you since Haven. I have been so selfish..." Her voice cracked, but he was already shaking his head adamantly.  
  
"No, you can't think that," he insisted, reaching for her hand. She clasped his much larger one in both of hers. "We've talked about this so many times. I  _know_ you can't be mine, I know that. You've never led me on. I've never been under any illusions about your intentions or where your heart truly lies." He sucked in a breath and let it out shakily, turning his gaze to the ceiling so he could avoid her watching him blush. "I suppose some part of me must have thought...when he left..." He laughed. "And you told me even then. But you have no idea what it's like to be around someone like you every day, as close as we are, to hold you while you cried for him on those rare occasions you'd let me see your pain, and to not be able to stop this persistent thought that maybe, maybe, in a few months or a year or ten years..." He laughed again, a little more strained this time. "Maker, listen to me. I sound absolutely pathetic."

Perhaps it was cruel of her to do so, but she lifted Cullen's hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. He turned his gaze to her and she gave him a pained, understanding expression topped with a small, sad smile. "I know a little about what that's like," she admitted softly.

"Maker's breath, of course you do," he rushed to agree and her smile broadened as she gestured for him to be quiet.  
  
"I never wanted to do this to you. And I definitely didn't want you to find out like that. I was going to tell him and then tell you privately so you wouldn't have to..." Hal let out a disgruntled sound in her throat at the thought of the fiasco at the tavern. 

"You're sweet," murmured Cullen, "but you shouldn't have to constantly worry about my feelings."

"Yes," Hal said firmly, her brow knitting with the earnestness of her confession. "Yes, I do, Cullen. Even if you weren't my advisor or the Commander of my troops, even if I weren't..." She closed her eyes. "...in love with you," but she had to seek out his gaze for this, to let him know how much she meant it. "You are my rock. I couldn't have done any of this without you by my side, and more than that, you're my  _clan_ now, Cullen. You're family. And you're one of my closest friends. My best friends."

He turned an endearing pink and she reached out again to smooth his hair from his forehead with tender fingers. His smile was wistful, longing, but grateful and understanding. As always. "You're my family as well, Hal'lasean Lavellan. And this child..." He paused and struggled for a moment with a lump in his throat. "This child will be my family as well. You need never worry for its safety or its happiness. I will love it as though it were my own."

"Cullen," Hal breathed thickly, and they both knew what the other wanted. He stood with surety and parted her legs, moving his solid, human form between them. They reached for each other, his hand on the back of her neck, tangled in her loose silver hair, her fingers gripping his curls and her palm pressed to his broad chest while his free hand trailed her chin and dropped to hold her waist. And their lips met for only the second time in their lives, joining with passion and feeling for a series of helpless kisses that they traded like stories of a future they would never have together, tongues embracing, chests pressed against one another, her feet curling around the backs of his lower thighs. But it went no further, no matter how visibly Cullen's body wanted it or how warm Hal's core had become with her lips against the sun. They would give each other that dignity. Their mouths parted and they held each other, her cheek resting against his chest, his chin on her head.

"I think," Cullen said with his lips pressed into her hair, "when I realized...it felt for the first time as though this would truly never happen. And I think...I think for both our sakes, but mostly for my own, I should go into the field for some time. There are forts to inspect and battalions to visit..."

"Whatever you need," she whispered, breathing in the strange musk of human male that she loved so dearly on the Commander. "But I think you could use a real leave." She pulled back from his embrace and touched his cheek as she searched his face. "How long has it been now since you've seen your family?"

Cullen let out a soft laugh. "Too long."

"Go see them, Cullen," Hal urged fondly. "Get some rest. The Inquisition needs you and I need you, but we can make do for a little while." She smiled hopefully at him and he returned it willingly. It was so easy, this relationship. So simple and sweet and  _easy_. "I would see you happy, my dear friend."

He flushed again and looked down, giving him a view of their bodies. His eyes came to rest on the flat of her stomach. And then he asked again, searching her face this time as he always did when he wanted her to be honest with him about how she was feeling. "And you, Hal? Are you happy?"

Her lips quirked on one side, becoming her infamously sly half-smile. "You know, I think I am."

 


	3. Chapter 3

After the bittersweet conversation with Cullen, Hal'lasean was suddenly overcome with exhaustion. She was not one for naps and the Inquisitor's schedule rarely allowed for it these days, but the only thing she wanted was to curl up naked in her absurdly fine bed with the curtains closed and shut her eyes to the world. Besides, if she was to tell Fen'Harel tonight, she would need to leave him a sign that she had news. Otherwise she'd have to track him down wherever he was and though she was getting better at navigating his beloved Fade, she was still new and clumsy at it. No, it would be infinitely easier for him to come to her because he knew exactly where she'd be and how to reach her. She had only just marked their agreed symbol at their agreed location when a muffled sound in her bedroom caught her attention through the Veil.

"Ah, there you are, my naked waif," murmured Dorian by way of apology, and she let out a long sigh as she opened her eyes. The covers were folded around her waist, leaving her chest bare, but she and Dorian had very little modesty to share between them and it was nothing he had not seen on countless trips through Thedas, where bathing often required a companion to watch for bandits or worse. She made no move to cover herself or to roll to face him; she just stared at the fabric by her pillow while he looked down at her from where he'd poked his head through the curtain. "Is it still all my fault?"

Hal laughed and sighed at the same time. "No. Any other time, I would have been thrilled, really. But, oh, Dorian...Cullen was so..." Tears welled again but did not fall.

"I know." He hesitated and then began to take off his boots. "I'm coming in, you little minx, so if you want a gown, now is the time to tell me." She tossed her shoulders so he stripped down to his smallclothes and crawled across the bed to drop down beside her. He stayed above the covers and pressed his chest to her back, slipping his arms around her slim waist and playing his fingertips against her lower belly. "I can't believe there's a little elfling in here," he murmured with his lips tickling against her shoulder. "What's the Elvhen for 'uncle'?" In spite of her dour mood's best efforts, Hal's lips twitched upward at the corners. Dorian, who saw his approach was working, continued to muse. "Do you suppose it will come out completely bald and pretentious? A mini-hobo apostate?"

Hal laughed and wrapped her arms around Dorian's. "He's not naturally bald, you ass."

"Right, right. He's naturally furry, yes? With claws and fangs and lots of scary red eyes." When she laughed again, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. "I'm sorry I mucked everything up for you."

"Cullen's leaving," she blurted in confession, and Dorian's arms tightened around her. "Just for a bit. To see his family. But mostly to get away from me."

"Well," sighed the mage, "I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later once your Wolf came back."

She made a soft sound of affirmation and went thoughtfully quiet for a moment. "Am I a terrible person, Dorian? I want him to be happy, but the thought of him falling in love with someone else..."

"I think you're a lot of things," decided Dorian with a smirk, and he set his chin on her shoulder so that his mustache brushed her ear. "You are without a doubt the most stubborn person I have ever met, for instance. You're a flirt, but so am I, so I can hardly fault for you that. You can be rash and foolish and occasionally insensitive, but no more than anyone else. Much less, in fact. And it's a damn shame you haven't got a cock between your legs. That, I think, is my least favorite thing about you because if you were a man, we could really make the tongues wag. But you can't really be blamed for that and I _suppose_ I can make do with the Bull." Hal made a disapproving noise in her throat and Dorian laughed. "But are you a terrible person for having enough room in your heart for a pasty wolf-god who can go for hours and a strapping, muscle-bound golden boy who would do anything for you? Of course not." He shrugged. "But what do I know? I'm a lout and a wastrel."

"You are," sighed Hal in amused agreement. "You really are." He pinched her side in revenge and she squeaked her protest. "You just told me I need a penis! Why am I the one getting pinched?"

"Oh, you've had quite enough penis, young lady," Dorian scolded, and then he leaned over to see her stomach. "Isn't that right, Dorian Secundus?"

Hal let out a harsh scoff. "I don't name children after people who pinch me. Besides, I doubt Fen'Harel will want to name a child of his anything remotely Tevene. No offense." Dorian sniffed with feigned injury. "And the Elvhen word for 'uncle' is 'ba'isa'ma'lin' which is a terrible thing to do to a toddler. And uncle...seems so... _wrong_. You're more than a brother to me."

Dorian smiled into the top of her shoulder. "We'll make something up then. We have time, I imagine. How long do you suppose the spawn of ancient elves take to gestate?"

The thought startled Hal so badly she sat up in bed, only narrowly missing taking out Dorian's nose with her shoulder. Her face was pale with realization and horror as she turned to face her friend for the first time. "Fenedhis, you don't think..." When Dorian said nothing to make her feel better, she fell onto her back on the bed with a miserable groan and pulled the covers over her face. "I'm mortal!" she whined through the blanket. "What if it's in there for the rest of my life!" Dorian started laughing, rolling onto his back beside her. She kicked his shin. "It's not funny! I'm going to be pregnant forever!" Which is when she started crying. Again. Dorian's laughter grew fond and sympathetic as he peeled the covers down from her pouting visage and his amusement just made her face grumpier. 

"Look at you," he cooed with a grin. "You're a big pregnant mess, aren't you. Blubbering at every little thing. I'm sure it'll be  _fine_. Have you told its father yet? I can't imagine you did, seeing as he left this morning. Well, when you tell him and he starts to throw a tantrum about duty and responsibility and danger, I imagine he'll tell you if there's a chance you'll be knocked up forever. Don't you think?" Hal's chin dimpled and her eyes were rounded like a child's, but she gave a few nods and wiped her cheeks dry. Dorian's smile softened and he brushed his thumb along her jawline. "And if it turns out there's a reason to worry, there are...methods we can use to take care of it." When she started to tear up again, he quickly added, "But it'll be fine, Hal! Really. You'll see. When you tell old baldie and he calms down, he'll say the same thing. It's going to be fine. We've got the best healers in Thedas practically begging to serve the Inquisition and an endless supply of people who love you who'll be falling all over themselves to nanny the little scamp once you've popped it out." His features twisted with a thought. "You're not going to need me to be in the room for that, are you? I love you and I'd take an arrow for you, but  _that_ is something I could live my whole life without witnessing. I mean...how does it even...?" He shook his head and shuddered. "You poor, brave fool. I'm excited for you -- and for me -- but I don't envy you one bit."

Hal wrinkled her nose with distaste. "I'm trying not to think about that part yet. I've been thinking about the part where I get fat and the part where I have a child, but I've been carefully skipping over that middle section." She let out a long-suffering sigh up at the canopy top. "I'm going to have to tell Cassandra and Josephine today before they hear it from someone else. I was hoping to put all this off for a while. I wasn't even going to tell Fen'Harel for another week or two, so that he wouldn't try to come back." A thought occurred to her and she rolled on her side to face Dorian with a wrinkled brow. "Don't humans frown on babies conceived outside of a marriage?"

"Generally," Dorian admitted earnestly. "But you're the blighted Inquisitor and your old spymaster is the new Divine.  _And_ your child's father is a Dalish god! Well, an immortal elf worshipped as one anyway. People will talk, but they always do." He poked gently at her stomach. "And that little Hal or Fen'Harel is going to be the best-loved baby in the history of Thedas. No one will dare speak ill of you or it while there are Inquisition ears around." Hal smiled sheepishly and turned faintly pink, which delighted Dorian. But his smile slipped a little as he added, "I imagine with what's to come, whether or not the Inquisitor's child is legitimate will be the least of the world's worries."

"Dorian..." Hal began with concern, but he put his fingers on her lips.

"You don't have to offer me a way out every time I get anxious about it. I think you're right and I'm with you. Completely. It just breaks my heart to think of my home carved up into pieces. Even if they are reasonable and deserved pieces. And it will be a long road. The people in power will fight us every step of the way." He pressed his lips together and tucked a lock of hair behind her pointed ear. "I know you love your diplomacy, but there's going to be blood and lots of it."

"There's already blood, Dorian," Hal murmured grimly, "elven blood every day. In the streets, in the forests, in the alienages. Tevinter is built on elven blood. So is Orlais. At least this way we'll be bleeding for a cause. For ourselves. Until the elves are free, none of Thedas will ever be free or at peace."

Dorian's lips quirked. "I love it when you grandstand." Hal's eyes flashed. She took Dorian's nipple between her thumb and forefinger and gave it a firm twist. " _Ow!_ Bad form!" He reached for her chest and she quickly covered it with her arms. They grinned at each other. "Get your clothes on, woman," Dorian commanded. "I made Fen'Harel a promise to stop you from moping and so help me, I will keep it, babies or no!"

"Where are we going?" she wondered.

The mage paused for a moment and then flashed a rakish grin. "I don't know. What does one do without alcohol?"


	4. Chapter 4

Her Wolf was already there, waiting for her in the Fade the moment she closed her eyes. He must have been prowling impatiently in the area that was Skyhold, searching each new dream that bloomed before him as the inhabitants of the fortress began to go to sleep. Truthfully, she had meant to be asleep much earlier, but the daily advisors meeting had gone horribly awry when she'd made her announcement and devolved into bickering. Cassandra made accusations and Josephine lamented all the hours she would now have to spend doing damage control for the Inquisitor's illegitimate child with an apostate and it didn't get better when Hal pointed out that if she'd shacked up with a human, they wouldn't be nearly so put out. It would have been more acceptable for the Inquisitor to dally with someone of a superior race, to leave her elven heritage behind for what was clearly the better stock, so that the shems could feel confident in their status quo. This turned into a sniping match about the problem being this  _particular_ elf she'd bedded and hadn't they even _tried_ to be responsible about their coupling?! There was much flailing of arms and carefully regulated shouting and dear, sweet Cullen standing by her side through the whole ordeal, quietly trying to calm things down and pointing out when the Seeker or the Ambassador were being unfair or cruel. In the end, Hal had walked out in a huff to retreat to her quarters, where she tossed and turned in the bed for a while.

The relieved moment she finally drifted through the Veil, he stepped into her dream with the swagger of a much younger Dread Wolf, cocky and pleased with himself and already pulling his tunic over his head. "Already?" he asked playfully, as though servicing the Inquisitor were part of his duties. He tossed his shirt aside and stepped toward her, all lithe muscle and predatory smirk. "I would have thought you might need a few weeks of rest after the month you have had."

He was such a welcome sight and his assumptions about her note for him so endearing that she broke into a grin and quickly bounded into his arms, not to be ravaged or even to kiss him, but to throw her arms around his neck and hold him to her. He'd barely been gone twelve hours and already it felt like an eternity. He laughed in surprise and caught her to him, her feet dangling a few inches above the ground. "Long day?" Fen'Harel wondered, nipping at her ear. 

"You have no idea," she breathed. He set her down and pulled back enough to run his thumb over her cheek as he often did. His swagger melted into affection and his gaze softened and they were kissing, gently, fondly, their lips meeting to bring them closer rather than as an invitation for something more primal. When they broke apart again, she rolled her lips together nervously and his eyes narrowed. 

"You were not simply demanding my body," he stated rather than asked and she shook her head. Just like that, the relief of seeing him, the joy of being in his arms, the familiarity and stability of his eyes on her faded behind the sharp, crackling nerves in her chest and stomach. He would be the last of her inner circle to know when he should have been the first and that would not please him. And while everyone's reactions so far had been less than ideal, this one was the one that worried her the most. She reminded herself insistently of Cole's words, that he would be angry but not at her, that he thought about it constantly, but thinking wistfully about a potential future was very different than being faced with the reality of it. "What is it?"

Hal took in the biggest breath she could and placed both palms on his bare chest to settle him. Her eyes searched his beseechingly, looking for his understanding and his resolve. "Nothing is wrong," she began so that he wouldn't be afraid for her, "but before I tell you what it is, you have to promise me that you won't come rushing back to Skyhold." Her brows lifted and knit together as she joked weakly, "At least not for another nine months." Her heart was in free fall while she waited for him to understand.

But he didn't. Fen'Harel tilted his head at her, considered her with confusion and mild amusement as though she were asking him to solve a riddle. "I will not return until you request otherwise," he told her, though he didn't promise. He was not a man for promises. But his word would be enough. "What will occur in nine months?"

 _Fenedhis,_ Hal opined _, really?!_

He was either being intentionally obtuse or he really didn't get it yet. Which is when Hal remembered Dorian's question from this afternoon and her panic over Elvhen gestation lengths. So perhaps he really didn't make the connection. Perhaps nine months meant nothing to him because it meant nothing in Elvhenan. "Eighteen months?" she tried, wincing with her uncertainty and the awkwardness of trying to bring him around without actually saying it. "Two years? I don't...I don't know how it's going to work, actually, I'm...I'm a little terrified about that, so maybe you could just tell me how long it normally takes?"

He held his arms out to his sides helplessly and gave her the kind of light laugh he always did when she asked a question he thought absurd or obvious. It was the first thing about him that had warmed her heart. "I will tell you if I can, but first you must tell me what it is you mean!"

_Fuck._

Okay. Okay, she could just say it. It wasn't so difficult, was it? She had said the word a few times today, had made the announcement to Cassandra and Josephine. She could just say it.  _Pregnant_. It wasn't the end of the world or even a very complicated thing to admit. It was natural and beautiful and as old as life itself.  _Pregnant_.

"I'm--" Nope. Hal was very aware of the intensity of the pink in her cheeks. One of her hands dropped subconsciously to rest against her occupied womb. She lifted her brows in plaintive hope at Fen'Harel, desperate to have him understand how much she needed him to not explode when he learned. But of course he would. He would be furious. 

_I am not afraid of the Dread Wolf._

"Fen'Harel," she breathed. She swallowed. "Ma sa'lath. I...I am carrying your child."

He had not worn his mask with her since she first called him Dread Wolf. He had not needed it. She became expert in the month that followed in removing piece by careful piece the armor he had developed over countless ages of the Grand Game and loneliness. She was determined to know all parts of him, to kiss and caress the secret places of Fen'Harel that had never seen the light of day. He had been a willing participant for the most part, patiently smiling through her gentle chiding when he went reticent or cross or slipped into his comfortable neutrality. He made such wonderful efforts to speak his thoughts to her, even when he thought she might not understand or might not approve. Hal had repaid him for his risk by loving each new layer he revealed to her. But now his mask slid into place so determinedly that she could almost hear it click into place like a visored helm. She'd much prefer he be irate. That he shout and rage at her. 

Anything but that distance. That mask. That careful part of him that spoke to her of cold, heartbroken days of calling her by her title as though he were not even her friend. Her kin. Her whole self.

"No." It was all he said for some time and she stubbornly beat her tears away.

"No?" she echoed, not truly believing her ears.

"It is not possible. You are mistaken."

Hal's brows shot up with her indignance and her temper flared. Fine. Fine! If he refused to be angry, then she would do it for him! "I know you've been alone a long time, my Wolf, so if you need a review of how this all works, I'll happily remind you. You see, when a man and a woman fornicate -- that is, the man ejaculates into--"

"I know how it works," Fen'Harel interrupted, and she was grateful for the irritable edge to his voice. Good. She was getting somewhere.

"Do you need a reminder of  _our_ couplings then? Because I understand there's a song with a comprehensive list if you need help. The first time you came inside me since your return -- not in the Fade, obviously, but truly inside me -- was six days after I woke. We were eating fruit and bread while we discussed the Dales and you reached over while I was speaking and pinched my side to see how my weight was recovering and then you got that  _look_ in your eyes -- no, not that one, the one that means you want to mount me from behind--"

"Yes, but the  _tea_!" Fen'Harel growled and his composure began to crack. 

Hal took some small pity on the immortal before her and held out her hands at her side in a shrug. "I drank it every morning, vhenan, all of it, and every other time you made it for me. Those herbs are not a guarantee!" Her ire softened again and she gave him a suggestive half-smile, moving closer to him with her pelvis in the lead. "Has it occurred to you that perhaps you are simply too virile for your own good?"

He didn't find it funny.


	5. Chapter 5

" _This_!" Fen'Harel shouted, turning sharply from Hal and stalking her dream like the agitated predator he was. His voice cracked under his feelings as his mask had done. " _This_ is why I left! You cannot possibly-- you do not comprehend the danger you are in! Mythal's plotting and my foolishness have dragged you into this despite my better judgment, but a child! A  _child cannot choose_ , Hal'lasean! A child!" His pitch slipped comically high, but Hal didn't dare laugh. She stood where she was, rotating to dutifully witness and remain present for his explosion because at least he was speaking to her. At least he was sharing his turbulent thoughts. She would be there for him through this no matter what words he chose. It was better than distance and silence and formality. It was better than vanishing. " _My_ \--  _my_ child?! I-- I will be absent and bring it nothing but enemies! Fear and pain, that will be my legacy for my--" He stopped abruptly in his pacing, planted panting a good ten feet away. When Fen'Harel turned to face her, his mask was nowhere to be found. It was only his uncertainty, his vulnerability, his fierce protectiveness, the enormous weight of his sense of duty, and though this was yet another heavy burden, there was his first glimmer of something brighter in his clear blue eyes. "My child?" His throat squeezed the word as though afraid to set it free into this terrifying world.

Hal wasn't sure when the tears welled in her eyes, but the way he looked at her released a few of them down her cheeks. The smile she offered him was one of tender, fledgling hope. It was a question. Would he leave her again? Would he ask her to be rid of it? Or would he be willing to be afraid with her, take the risk for a reward that could be beyond even immortal ken.

"You are quite certain?" Fen'Harel insisted, moving toward her with a long, tentative step. Then another. "When did you last bleed?"

"I haven't bled since before I collapsed, ma Fen," she replied with sweet-faced patience, making no sudden movements and dipping her chin slightly as though charming a wild thing. "It should have come two weeks ago. At first I thought it was a consequence of my weight loss or the time I was unconscious or possibly even your magic. But there have been other signs."

"My magic," Fen'Harel hissed like she'd stabbed him. "We have no idea the consequences of that energy on _you_ , much less a _baby_! There is no precedent for this! For any of this!" A bench appeared beneath him where before there had been only grass, Elvhen carved and gorgeous, and he sank down on it with complete faith in its existence, that it would catch him. One day, she thought longingly, perhaps he could have such faith in her. He ran his hands over his hairless head and then propped his face on his palms, his elbows on his knees. "How could I have been so reckless? How could  _we_ have been so reckless?!"

Despite her sympathy for her lover's struggle -- she had been through it herself, was still going through it -- Hal couldn't resist a wry, unhelpful answer. She deserved a little amusement. "If I remember correctly, there was a moment early on when I handed you a cover and after neither of us could get the blighted thing on you, you threw it off my balcony, cursed it to an eternity in the Void, and snarled for me to beg you to spill your seed in me."

Fen'Harel flushed at the memory, in embarrassment and remembered desire, and Hal didn't bother to hide her self-satisfied smile. "And where was your sensible head during all this?" he asked dryly.

"You were holding it to your cock," answered Hal playfully, taking another suggestive step toward him. "And then later you did that thing with your magic and your tongue and you can hardly blame me for not being able to think."

He let out a half-incredulous laugh that was nearly a whimper, scrubbed his face roughly with his hands, and finally lifted his tormented eyes to meet Hal's. He looked so lost and helpless that she willed herself to him, dropping gently to her knees between his legs and looking up at him with another tremulous smile. "Hal'lasean," he murmured, his voice thick, and sent his fingers into her hair, "tell me what to do. I have blundered every decision I have ever made, ruined everything good and true I have ever had. But you...you smile and nations fall at your feet. You see choices that did not before exist in impossible situations and will them into being." His blue eyes filled with wonder as he stroked his hand through her silver tresses. "You wear the thorny crown of power like a halo of morning's first light. You are _so young,_ but in this I will be your student. Tell me what to do, hahren. I will listen."

Hal smiled her uncontainable pleasure up at him, blushing and practically squirming under his high, sincere praise. "Da'len," she teased sweetly, "when the woman to whom you have given your heart tells you that your joined love has become a life inside her, you speak to each other of your joy and fears, your hope and the depth of your passions." Her smile took on a wicked edge. "You ask her if she is truly certain and when she tells you that, yes, she has known with surety for a week, that the resident spirit confirmed it for her just this morning, you lift her into your arms and spin her. You marvel at her belly and you let out the Wolf to howl his approval, to mark his scent on her flesh and fill her up with his pride, to claim her and the pup inside her so that no rival will dare challenge his territory, his mate, his offspring."

While she talked, gripping his thighs with light but insistent pressure, Fen'Harel's eyes reflected each action she described, moving from devotion and affection to something darker, heavier, something that moved the breath in his chest dramatically. That steel blue gaze traveled her face and body in a haze of pure lust. The Wolf in him smiled at its next meal. But he restrained himself still. "I am sorry to confess," he murmured, "that for the moment I have more fears than joy. I--" He stopped abruptly once again and seemed to see her for the first time since she told him. "Oh, Hal'la. I am being so selfish. How are  _you_? You are the one carrying a new life. Tell me your joys and fears. Tell me of your hope. What would you have us do?"

Hal smiled with a secret joy that she had been hiding protectively like kindling a spark for a fire in a storm. Her dream pulsed with it, turning the colors brighter, making the scents sweeter. "You might think this is foolish --  _I_ think it's foolish, but there's this old Keeper's tale...they say that if two elves want a child, no cover will shield her womb, no herbs will flush her clean. It's a superstition, I know, another Dalish dream of ancient Elvhen, but I've thought about it all day today. When we were young..." She smiled at him knowingly. "When we were young _er_ and just discovering how to fit our bodies together, we thought that as long as we both stated before and after to each other that we didn't want a child, we would be safe. It was idiocy. We got lucky, that was all, and we still brewed and drank whole pots of tea the next day, but..." She shook her head and flushed prettily at Fen'Harel. "This morning Cole told me you...had wanted this. Some part of you had wanted this. And I..." Hal sucked in a deep breath. "I had never dared think of it before. Corypheus made thoughts beyond the immediate needs of the Inquisition unnecessary. And you're right, I am  _so young_ , so I always thought...one day, some day, when I'm older. But then I finally had time once things calmed down, once the imminent threats were gone and you had vanished and so much of what I thought I knew was a lie...I finally had time to decide who and how I wanted to be in the world. I woke up in a dungeon in Haven and we hadn't stopped since, I was always rushing to fix something, to start something, to fight something, so I never noticed when I no longer felt like a girl. I didn't feel the change happen. I don't  _feel_ young anymore, Fen'Harel, no matter how naive that sounds to you. And when you came back...when I convinced you to stay, something...fit. I don't feel like an impostor anymore. I don't feel clumsy or overwhelmed. And each time you came inside me, some part of me began to want this more and more. Some part of me craved it." He was watching her silently, his brow lifted but his expression slack, either with shock or an abundance of feeling or an absence of coherent thought.  "I am  _proud_ that in all the world, in all his time, though I am sure he has had many lovers more skilled and beautiful than I...I am  _fiercely proud_ to be the one woman to win the Dread Wolf's warm, wonderful heart. I want all of Thedas -- the shems and the Qunari and the dwarves in the Deep Roads, but especially every Dalish Keeper and First, every Fen'Harel-fearing child running barefoot through the forest -- I want them all to know you belong to me and that I belong to you. I want to give you a whole fortress full of children. I want them to have your eyes and your smile and your pride. I want them to call you babae and watch the Dread Wolf melt. I would give you a pack of handsome, sensitive boys and beautiful, deadly girls to hunt at your side, and I would watch contentedly for the rest of my mortal life, watch you love them, hold them, teach them of Elvhenan, show them ancient magics this world has forgotten." She was crying again -- they both were, she realized -- hot, full tears that expressed no pain, only bittersweet love. "I would give you a legacy with the blood of Elvhenan, so that when my time is up and I am gone, you will see me in their faces and remember. I want you to remember me."

"When I say you are my heart, Hal'lasean," Fen'Harel whispered with sharp conviction, "I mean that with each beat, it whispers your name. I will never have to remember you because you will always live in me. And when my heart no longer beats, my spirit will call to yours like a chant for all of eternity." The way he said that last word made it seem an impossibly long amount of time, time beyond time, existence beyond existence beyond all reckoning. He dropped from the bench and buried his joys and fears in her lips, kissed her so fervently, with such intensity that their teeth clicked together but still he could not kiss her hard enough, deep enough. He kissed her until their tongues were tired and their lips swollen, and then he started all over again.


	6. Chapter 6

Somewhere in the delirium of their desperate kissing, the bench vanished from the dream and the grass grew thick and verdant and soft underneath them. He had his fingers woven through her hair and she had her hands pushed firmly against his chest, her fingers curling over his collarbone. Hal'lasean wasn't sure who changed their expressed passion first, if it was her palms sliding down his ribs or his hands wrapping into fists and tugging her hair. They had become used to their shared power now, knew how to control it and soften its charge, but it was stronger in the Fade and it grew volatile and hot within them as their bodies yearned for each other. Whoever began it, their attentions became more tongue than tenderness, more covetous than caress, and Hal began to back across the grass, leading Fen'Harel by their joined mouths, wriggling free of her tunic.

They broke their kiss so she could pull the shirt over her head and he leapt on her -- gently but hungrily -- pinning her to the green carpet beneath them and covering her nearest nipple with his mouth. He sucked and kissed and teased it with his tongue and teeth and then, oh, the surge of his magic within her! She lifted her chest toward him needfully, her breathing making her breasts rise and fall against his mouth in a way Hal knew pleased the Wolf, made the Wolf feral like the moment of the kill, when the hunt is won. He made a noise low in his throat and dragged his tongue roughly along the valley of her eager chest and gripped her thighs tightly, one in each hand, so that he could part her legs with firm force. She offered him her throat in willing surrender and he sank his teeth into the curve of her neck, sharp pain and a swell of his energy sparking through her, dancing over their prickling skin, tingling in her fingertips and between her thighs and she whimpered her longing. He growled against her skin and tilted his hips to press his need against her until the only thing keeping him from entering her, from driving himself into the heat of her, was the fabric of their breeches. He rubbed his length where she parted for him and sent fingers of his magic slipping inside her that teased and spread her and skillfully coaxed a surprised, pleasured cry from her lips that made him hiss a hard breath in response. Hal arched, pushing her hips toward him, tempting him into unleashing the Wolf with every prey sound she made. Fen'Harel slid down her body and tore urgently at the waist of her pants, jerking them from her offered form as though they offended him with their very existence. The knife's edge quirk of his lips as he surveyed how wet she was for him, how much she wanted him sent his magic across her thighs like hot wax and she bit back a yelp. "Sing for me," he ordered her with gravel in his voice. "Howl for me." He dropped his head between her legs and watched her with the Wolf's eyes as he took his slow, torturous time exploring her changed taste with his tongue. She let out a helpless whimper and pushed the unbearable intensity of her longing toward him, urging him, tricking him into filling her deeper, faster, more. And then, without warning, he stopped.

"Ma Fen?" she begged, pushing herself up on her trembling forearms.  
  
"No," Fen'Harel panted, and though his eyes, half-lidded with his desire, traveled the flush of her face and openness of her slender body, he pulled away, shook his head in uncertainty and apology. And there was something new in his gaze. Something appraising. He sat back on his heels and trailed a hand down her chest to her stomach, his brow knit with the same serious expression he used for a particularly fascinating ruin. Like he was puzzling something out, puzzling her out, and when his gaze met hers again, Hal found something startling and extraordinary in it she had never before seen there, not from Solas, and certainly not from the Dread Wolf.

They had always been equals in her eyes; she had never called him elder or teacher when they first met because there seemed to be something ageless about his face, and though he had great wisdom and knowledge to offer, he was prejudiced and proud with the short temper of a young man. It had never occurred to her to think of him as older or better; she treated him as kin, as a friend, and so he had never called her child or student and quickly ceased to speak down to her, even on subjects about which she was ignorant. She had always been someone who preferred questions to answers and that seemed to resonate with him, to call to his gentler nature. And they made each other laugh. They made each other smile. They spoke for hours on the ephemeral and the unknowable and the nature of people. Hal had never noticed an imbalance of power between them. But when it came to their love, he was the maker of decisions, the giver of permissions. She had always been ready, open, willing for whatever he would give her, but he was secretive and hidden and he made their choices for them when he walked away. When he left. But it was more than that. They had consummated their love all over Thedas, all over the Fade, in positions she had never even realized existed, tender and religious, desperate and rough and furious and mournful in turns. He had let her command him, let her ride him, let her take her pleasure from him and give him none in return if she so desired. At Halamshiral, high on her victory, she had wrestled him, trapped him against the carriage seat, straddling him and moving above him as she pleased, enjoying his agony when she slowed and his grunts when she shifted or tightened. She had held the power, but only because he had let her do so. The Wolf enjoyed the illusion of granting control, came alive with the game of wresting it forcefully back. Just as she began to climax in the carriage, just as her guard went down, he had picked her up and driven her against the other wall, pinned her arms above her head. He had fallen upon her and taken back his seductive dream of power. He had been consumed with the need to consume her because she had shown herself a worthy adversary and the Wolf  _needed_ to dominate her. _Needed_ to be alpha. Hal didn't mind. She preferred it. Loved the hunger of his embrace, the brief respite from leading the world. It was bliss to let someone else take charge for a change. She had never stopped to think about what it meant beyond their flesh and their love and the heat between her legs. Never once wondered if she was truly equal in his eyes. She knew he loved her, knew he was constantly surprised and impressed by her -- he told her as much -- knew that he thought her the brightest spirit he had ever known, had never given his heart to another, respected her as a leader, as a strategist, as a fighter, as a mind and a soul. She knew all these things. Why then should she ever consider the possibility that he saw her as somehow lesser? But in this moment, with his cool blue eyes on hers and his brows lifted in question, Hal suddenly saw. She suddenly understood.

Fen'Harel saw everyone as lesser, she realized. But not because he thought himself worthier; he was infinitely aware of his mistakes and failings, worried them over and over in his mind as his penance, loathed and was ashamed of the man he was, the ways he'd stumbled. He had been a match for the other members of the pantheon, he'd told her, in his prime, but he was an upstart to most of them. He was powerful, but they were older and knew secrets of magic he had yet to learn. And the Dread Wolf was too smart, too keen not to see when he was beaten. He was the trickster god, the subtle, clever god, not the god of brute force, not the god of strength. He had had to find other ways to get what he wanted, was the master of the Grand Game. No, the simple truth that was laid before Hal'lasean now with astonishing clarity was that Fen'Harel saw everyone as lesser because he could not trust. He trusted no one but himself to do what must be done, to make decisions for the greater good, counted only on his own resources and mind and will. He loved her, she was his heart, but he could not trust her, not truly, despite everything they'd been through together. It was not even an indictment of her character. It was the flaw in his. And he knew it. It was why he named himself Pride. He was unwilling or incapable of relinquishing control in earnest.

And so when Hal'lasean saw the sacrifice in his eyes, she did not take it for granted. He was offering something to her he had never thought to give anyone before, had probably never imagined he could. He was elevating her to his private, secret pantheon, anointing her with godhood in his eyes. He was laying the Wolf down at her feet and having him show her his belly.

Fen'Harel was gifting her with his submission.

"Tonight," he purred with the weight of sacred ceremony, "Hal'la, you will have me if you choose. Tonight, you tame the Wolf." And Fen'Harel stood, freeing his arousal from his breeches and stepping out of them, only to prostrate himself before her, lying on his back in the grass. He held out his hand and she took it, pulling herself up to her knees and insinuating herself between his thighs. "Come, vhenan," and he smiled with wicked sweetness up at her, "claim your mount, if you would have him."

Her gaze on his was soft and sweet, full of her love and appreciation for this, the most precious present he had to give, but her half of his magic thrummed in her, cried out barbarically with the promise of the kill, with the thrill of domination. Something deep and dark inside her howled with anticipation, the same piece of her that learned to love the fight and the Game, the secret place in her that craved power and control and to own and claim and conquer. It was a place that scared her, that made her ashamed, but if he could give her this when it so terrified him, she could give him the beast she pretended even to herself did not exist in her. The beast that suddenly roared with the urge to flip Fen'Harel onto his knees and take him as he had always taken her, to fill him with her and make him sing and howl for her, to drive him mad with one hand while she gripped and stroked with the other. She wanted to use up the Dread Wolf and leave him in a limp, worthless heap on the ground before her, to deny him the privilege of looking at her or touching her, to give him his pleasure until even the immortal Elvhen could stand it no longer and came apart in her hands. Until even Fen'Harel could not rally and lay at her feet knowing his defeat. And she would do all of these things to him, would hear him plead his surrender. But not tonight. Tonight she would saddle him and ride him gently, treat him with the compassion and consideration of a blushing virgin. 

Hal pulled his feet toward her, stretching his body out flat, and lifted herself over him, hovering with the apex of her spread legs wet and warm at his tip. She stayed there for a deliciously long time, teasing him, torturing him, watching with pride as he struggled to keep himself in submission, fought to hold his hands down and his hips against the grass. He let out a growl and she lifted away from him. "No," she scolded him, "no growling. No touching unless I tell you to. You are not to buck or bite or so much as shift your feet. You may make sounds, my Wolf, but they must be prey sounds. You may speak, but only to beg or plead or ask permission. If you cannot be good, I'll have to break you. Can you be good?"

Fen'Harel's chest rose and fell with haggard breaths and his fists clutched at the grass to keep them busy. His blue eyes were locked on hers, a storm of desire and anxiety and wariness, reflecting the snarling of the barely caged Wolf. " _Yes_ ," he rasped.

She smiled, part predator and part loving, and lowered herself back down, but on his lower stomach instead, so she could lean her chest to his and press her lips to his neck, to nip at his ear, and then to whisper, so sincerely, all reverence for his gift to her, "Ma serranas, ma uthlath."

"Ar lath ma," he replied huskily, and she caught his bottom lip between her teeth.

"I have never been so aware just how much, ma Fen," Hal said thickly. Her smile returned and she pressed her fingers to his lips to shush him, dragging her touch along his torso in a serpentine line as she raised her hips once more above his. "Howl for me." With her gaze intent on his face, eager to witness his undoing, she finally took him inside her. He offered her his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The incredibly talented [Karini](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Karini/pseuds/Karini) illustrated the end of this chapter for me!
> 
> [See the NSFW version here!](http://http://karininini.tumblr.com/post/121033013456/nsfw-full-pic-under-the-cut-wtf-why-is-this-small)
> 
> Here's the [fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4036573) I wrote her in exchange.


	7. Chapter 7

She rode him twice before he could no longer bear his need for her: once deliberate and romantic, so he could get a taste for this, so she could ease his transition, and then, after commanding and encouraging him to rally, once at a hard gallop, so that he covered his face with his hands and let out agonized groans because he could not stand keeping still and because he had already pulled all the grass from the ground beneath him in frustration. 

"Don't hide," she'd insisted, posting above him like an expert equestrian. They were covered in a sheen of sweat from their exertions and their bodies made wet sounds where they slammed against each other, but each time he shifted his hips, she'd dig her heels into his legs or lightly slap his haunch to remind him of his place. "Show me, vhenan. I want to see you." He barked a harsh, slightly hysterical laugh that turned into a whimper, his first true prey sound, and she redoubled her efforts to reward him. Her poor Wolf had to will stone grips on either side of his body so he could keep his hands from reaching for her or from clasping over his face. He hooked his fingers around them white-knuckled and cried out helplessly when he came the second time, her hands on his hips to keep him from arching as she rolled him through it. When he was a quaking, miserable wreck from his struggle and pleasure and from the raw burn of being so vulnerable to someone for so long, from the courage of putting himself at her mercy, he finally began to beg. " _Please_ ," he gasped, his breath coming in ragged pants, " _please_ , vhenan, I must-- I would--  _please_ may I taste you? I must-- I need to taste--  _please_ , Hal'la, allow me this...one..."

She was sore and swollen and tired, but she couldn't deny him his one request, not when he had been so willing, had done everything she asked of him, had truly submitted to her control. "You have been so good, ma Fen," she purred, her voice throaty and low from her own satisfaction, "you may have whatever you need."

" _Fenedhis_ ," he howled in relief, and she let him lift her, allowed him to deposit her gently but desperately on the sudden reappearance of the bench. Fen'Harel pulled her legs to him, hooking them over his shoulders, and took out his frustrations and fears and his newfound trust in her on her already sensitive sex, repaying her with his hands and magic and tongue until she sat up and reached for him, shaking her head insistently. "No more," she panted, "no more, Fen'Harel, I can't--" She remembered that she was in control then and sent a hand between her own legs to lift his chin, to force him from her. "Enough, ma Fen. You have done so well." She kissed him placatingly, soothingly, tasting herself on him. "I'm so very proud of you."

His face was slick with his saliva and her wetness and his expression was practically dumb with desire and devotion and the wonder of the experience. He looked for all the world like a happy, stupid puppy. Hal'lasean beamed at him blissfully and he reached out finally to touch her without permission, to trace the swell of her breasts and the curve of her neck and the line of her jaw. "Each time I think I finally know all of you..." he breathed. "You are so beautiful."

Her smile turned sly. "You're a mess."

Fen'Harel let out a surprised, full laugh and swept her into his arms so he could lay her out on the grass and rest himself on top of her, his body on the ground between her legs, his lips pressed prayerfully to her womb. "I will be a father," he murmured against her skin, trying the words out and finding he was in love with them. "I never thought..." He rested his chin on her stomach and studied her with great earnestness. "Hal'lasean, my heart, I am fiercely proud that you will be the mother of my child. Truly, I have never known your equal."

Hal let out a humming sound and folded her arm beneath her head as she considered his words, as though they were not exactly what she most desired to hear, as though she were not busily memorizing this moment in the core of her being. "Are you sure, Dread Wolf," she wondered gently, "that it isn't just that you have never before known  _your_ equal?"

The words wounded him but he let her see him take them in, think them over. "I think..." he replied eventually, his expression pained, "...that to say you are my equal would be to diminish you. And I will never make that mistake again."

Hal let out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding and trailed fond fingertips over his ears and scalp. "Ar lath ma, Fen'Harel."

He kissed her stomach again and turned his head to lay his ear against her, as though he might somehow hear his child's spirit already. "You have known a week?" he asked, his voice light.

"Mm," she agreed. Her fingers traced Dalish patterns on his bald head and tweaked lovingly at the points of his ears. "I would have told you, but I thought that if I did you would never have gone. And I promised you."

He tucked his arms under her lower back and held her close. "Cole knows?"

"Yes, vhenan," said Hal with a small smile. "He didn't understand why I didn't tell you. I was  _going_ to wait a few more weeks so you could be too involved in your work to run back to me, but  _some_ one, who shall remain nameless, made Dorian promise him he would keep me entertained."

Fen'Harel cringed with sudden understanding. "He wanted you to drink with him."

"Mmhmm," she sighed. "It was a disaster."

"Who else knows?"

She laughed helplessly at the question. "Oh, Fen'Harel, everyone. I was going to tell you first of course and then Cullen privately to give him his dignity, and then _wait_ until things were further along to tell anyone else. But they were teasing me about my refusal to drink that Qunari bleach and Bull asked if I was 'knocked up'."

Despite his lover's misery, Fen'Harel chuckled. "It was all your faithful men, was it? The Iron Bull, Dorian, Varric...Krem?" She offered a sound of assent. "Oh," he realized suddenly, "and the Commander?"

Hal left off her attentions to his scalp to press her palm over her eyes. "Yes," she groaned.

"How did he take it?" Fen'Harel's question was so tender that she looked down her body at him in surprise. When she placed her hand again on his head, she massaged his skin for his understanding. 

"Badly, at first," she sighed, letting her gaze wander up to the swirling Fade sky above them. "But we talked and...he's going to visit his family for a bit. For space and time." Hal sucked in a pained breath. "He also assured me he would love our child as his own."

"Cullen Rutherford," Fen'Harel declared thoughtfully, "is a good, honorable man."

Hal'lasean hesitated only a moment before she confessed frankly, "You should know we kissed."

His body tensed against hers and for some time he said nothing, but he did not pull away or loosen his grip on her waist. Eventually he set his chin on her stomach so he could search her gaze. "I cannot say that I am surprised," he said with only the hint of strain in his tone.

She propped herself up on her elbows to see him better, her brow knit as she studied him in return, feeling out the strange serenity of his response. "Are you angry?"

He considered that for a few moments, his lips pursing in thought, and then he lifted his brows in question. "Will it happen again?"

It seemed disingenuous to hide the sudden moisture of her eyes or the way her face twisted with regret. "No," she admitted, her throat tight, "It was a goodbye. We were saying goodbye to our possibility."

Fen'Harel let out a long, warm breath on her skin through his nose and unhooked one of his arms from her back so he could run it soothingly up and down her side. "I am sorry for your hurt, vhenan," he decided carefully.


	8. Chapter 8

"I'm sorry if I've hurt you," Hal murmured earnestly, her brows knitting as she watched Fen'Harel's expression for signs of injury to his pride or his heart.

He favored her with a wan, crooked smile. "You have never been dishonest about your feelings for the Commander," he sighed. "You have always been clear with him and with me what your choice was. I can hardly fault you for treating him with compassion, especially when I told you not to wait for me, when I treated you so cruelly. I pushed you away and left you. I told you to find happiness with him." The smile softened at the corners. "But you are headstrong and stubborn and do not listen to your elders, an infuriating trait to which I owe all my joy."

Hal's smile for Fen'Harel was light and full of feeling, but as her thoughts drifted back to her other love, the expression faltered and she dropped her head back to the grass in dismay. "I feel terrible for what I've done to him, ma lath. I want him to be happy. He deserves only goodness. He truly is such a kind, noble man."

Fen'Harel made a soft sound in his throat that vibrated against the skin of her stomach and ran his thumb thoughtfully along the curve at the bottom of her breast. "He is the only other man I would ever allow to be with you," he said eventually, his voice quiet and contemplative.

She propped herself up again at that, first in proud surprise that her Wolf was being so honest and charitable, and then because she needed to lift one imperious brow at him in challenge. " _Allow_?"

He could not hide his broad, sheepish grin. "My apologies, vhenan. I worded that poorly."

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at him, but it was playful and amused. "Apology accepted," she decided, and flopped back again. She pillowed her head with her free arm and continued to trail her fingertips over his scalp and ears with the other. Hal smiled pensively up at the wavering ceiling of the Fade and ventured delicately, teasingly, "You know, there _is_ a way that Cullen--"

"No," Fen'Harel said immediately. He was waiting for her to lift herself up again enough to see him so he could level her with his most serious of looks, in case she thought he might be joking.

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" she complained.

"Oh, yes I do," her lover replied knowingly, and though he was determined that she should see just how much he meant what he was saying, he also decided to reveal to her just how amusing he found her playful suggestion, his smirk wry and fond. "If I were a better man, perhaps I could find such generosity within myself, but unfortunately for you, I am not." His eyes flashed and he pushed his body up so he could crawl up her torso, pausing occasionally to kiss or nuzzle a particularly inviting area of her pale flesh. "It is only natural that he should love you," he told her breasts. Then he hovered over her, unwilling to put his full weight on her stomach, and bumped her nose with his. "But I am half-feral and fiercely possessive of what is mine."

" _Hmph_!" sniffed Hal, failing miserably at acting superior because of the delight in her eyes and the pleasure in her smile. She touched his nose with hers in return and then kissed him between the eyes. "I belong to no man."

That young Fen'Harel resurfaced, cocksure and brimming with roguish charm that was almost disconcertingly reminiscent of Dorian's. "What about a god?" he wondered in a low rumble, drawing his nose along her neck until she no longer had room in her head for thoughts of Tevinter mages.

She laughed at his bravado and tilted her head to give him more of her skin to explore. "Oh, I see! So you're a god, but only when it suits you, is that it?"

Fen'Harel met her gaze briefly, his smile wicked and his brows quirked. "I have always been a god in bed, vhenan."

Hal's eyes flashed and she stretched back out in the grass, making enticing, luxuriously long lines with her muscles beneath his lifted body. "I'm afraid I don't have much to compare you to," she mused innocently, letting her eyes round and subtly pouting her lips. "A few clumsy tumbles in a field with the First of another clan. Maybe if you'd let me dabble, I could--" He nipped at her ear and she squeaked, her grin happy and wide. "I would let you watch!" she offered, and he dropped down beside her and rolled her on top of him so that he could bite her shoulder playfully, pinch her sides and ass. She squealed and laughed and swatted as his hands. "Okay, okay, fine! You can join if you  _must-- ow!_  But you have to pay more attention to--" She giggled and squirmed, but made no move to roll off of him or out of his reach. "--more attention to me than to the other men or I'll just banish you back to the corner to take care of yourself!"

"Other men?" he laughed, grabbing her wrists to keep her from fighting back and hooking his feet around her legs to pin those too. "Oh, my naive young vhenan, if we invite anyone into our bed, they will all be nubile, buxom women." He kissed her playfully, pulled back when she tried to nip at his bottom lip, and then darted in for a second kiss. 

She narrowed her eyes with feigned agitation but didn't bother to fight him for the use of her limbs. "Will you both pay more attention to me than to each other?" she asked, and she was so earnest that his eyes went wide with surprise and more than a little excitement. 

"I find those terms agreeable," he replied wolfishly. 

"Then you may bring other women into our bed," Hal decided, and enjoyed the color that spread along the tops of Fen'Harel's ears with the announcement. Then she lifted her brows and smirked ruthlessly. "But for each woman you invite, I get to invite a man."

He groaned and she laughed and this time she was the one chasing him for kisses. When he finally released her arms and legs, it was to wrap her in his embrace and hold her to him, and she wriggled down his chest in search of the perfect position for cuddling, which ended up being her stomach to his, her cheek on his chest. Fen'Harel let out a contented sigh and she smiled against him. They stayed that way in happy quiet for quite some time, his hands running along her spine and ribs, resting on the upper curve of her backside. 

"Hal'la," Fen'Harel murmured eventually, and she could hear the worry in his voice even without seeing the way his brow pulled low over his eyes, "I will want to be there for our child, every day, to see its first steps and hear its first words and tend to its hurts and scrapes. I do not trust myself to raise a child and do what must be done."

Hal kissed his chest and squeezed her arms on either side of his ribs, but didn't think enough of his anxiety to meet his eyes. Because she knew exactly what he needed to hear. "Ma Fen, I want you to be there for those things as well, with all my heart. And you will be, for so much of it. I'll make sure of that. And when you're gone, you can find our child in the Fade. I want you to teach them to love it as you do and I want them to know the noble, passionate man their father is. But I won't let you stray from this path we're on. Our child is not more important than the other elven children living in slavery and poverty and servitude all over Thedas. And even if we forget that, if we lose ourselves in loving this baby, we won't falter. Because if there ever was a reason to make the elves the true home they deserve, it is our child. We'll do it for the baby."

He kissed her hair gratefully and lapsed back into pensive silence, enjoying the gentle hum of their joined magics and the press of her chest to his when they breathed. This time it was she who broke their reverie, and though he couldn't see the concerned lift of her brows, he could hear the soft fear in her voice. "Fen'Harel? How long do Elvhen women carry their children?"

The blood drained from his face and he stared up at the sky above, suddenly understanding her earlier questions about months and years. "It..." he began lamely, "is complicated, vhenan. Much depended on the woman and her magic. There were debates about whether children carried for years were more powerful mages and it was the fashion, for a time, to delay the birth as long as possible. My mother carried me for three years, but when I entered uthenera, women were trying for an entire decade." He realized when he paused to gather his thoughts that she had gone very still and very rigid in his arms and he sighed, smoothing her hair with his hand. "That was at the height of Elvhenan. The magic that permeated every part of our lives does not exist here in the same way. There must have been other Elvhen who had children with mortals while I slept, as things changed, but I have seen no records of such couplings, so I cannot say with any certainty how long yours might be or even if our child will live as an immortal..." He sucked in a breath at the thought of watching his son or daughter age and die and squeezed his eyes shut. "But I am sure that whatever comes, you and I will face it together. I will be by your side whenever you need me." He felt something wet against his chest and lifted his head to check on his love. Her eyes were closed but tears clung to her lashes and fell fat and warm on his skin. "Hal'la," he whispered with ache in his voice. "Tell me."

She shook her head and he held her more tightly to him. "Women do this all the time," she mumbled, her throat strained, "they do this all the time and they have always done it and I know that, I know that, but I am..." She let out a shuddering breath. "I am  _terrified_ , Fen'Harel!" She finally opened her eyes and tilted her head up to look pleadingly at him, her violet-tinged-teal eyes full and wet.

His face contorted with pain for her and he pressed urgent lips to her forehead. "As am I, ma lath. But we will learn to be afraid together."


End file.
